Who Am I
by Minnzy
Summary: ""Do not try to be someone you are not." - "But who am I then, André?" I would never get an answer to my question, because the next morning, he was gone." - forever? With the Revolution just ahead, Oscar is in search of her own identity, which leaves a decision to her: Will she fight on the side of the nobels or the commoners, and will she be woman or man? Contains elements of AU.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own the characters of the fanfiction. Their original author is Riyoko Ikeda. I am only writing for fun._

 **Author's note:**

 _Hello!  
Thank you for your interest in my fanfic. To be honest, I am a little nervous about posting it regarding where I plan to take it to. Anyway, I decided to take a risk and try it out as I just cannot get it out of my mind. _

_Please note that the story is rated M. I am not going to publish any detailed discriptions of scenes with sexual content, but the topics I am going to mention are not easy ones and they may not be suitable for younger audiences. Nevertheless, I will announce critical scenes to make sure that no one might be offended._

 _I am sorry for possible spelling or grammar mistakes as English is not my mother tongue._

 _So, that should be all for now. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

My name was Oscar François de Jarjayes, born on 25th of December 1765. In a few weeks, I would have turned 23. I first was commander, then high commander of the Royal Guard. I later was commander of the French National Guard. I was a noble. I was a man. I tried to be one, at least. However, in all my life, I had made many mistakes. One of them was that I lost my best friend and let it happen. I never saw him again. And I never will. Because I am dead.

Well, I thought so. Until the darkness which was surrounding me for what seemed like an eternity fades. My ears are ringing and my body is aching all over. The cold snow against my skin feels like thousands of needle stings. It is cold, terribly cold. But a hot tear is running down my cheek when I remember what has happened. And I wish I actually was dead.

* * *

Earlier.

 _He did not react the way I had expected. He did not look pleased, and I did not understand. Why would it not please him? Was he not glad to be free? Free to do what he wanted, free to finally live his own life? Apparently not._

 _"Why?" André asked, but I did not answer. "Why, Oscar? Why, what did I do wrong?"_

 _I swallowed, shaking my head. "Nothing."_

 _That was not what he wanted to hear. He looked hurt and I wanted to say something, but I did not know what, because I did not know what he wanted to hear instead._

" _Why, then? Why do you send me away? "_

" _I do not_ send _you away. I just said that you are free to go. Because I go, too. I thought-"_

 _The hurt in his face had changed to anger and I knew that I involuntarily may have gone too far. "You_ thought _! My God, Oscar François de Jarjayes can think! I can hardly believe you ever do, because if you_ did, _surely you would not have said this! You would know then that I would never intend to-" He seized me by the wrist when my hand was flying towards his face. We both froze._

 _How had we gotten here? What had happened to us that we were shouting at each other, that I wanted to slap him, that he held my wrist in order to prevent that? It would not have been the first time that we would have had a fight, although the last one was long time ago. But this felt different. Things had changed._ We _had changed._

 _I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Let me go" I said, nearly whispering. He did not hear it, or maybe did not want to hear. He just stood there in silence. "Let me go!" I said again, this time trying to appear more determined, though it was rather a squeal. I pressed my lips together at the sound of my voice, embarrassed by what I called an overreaction. There was neither a reason to be hysteric, nor to be scared of my best friend. Why would I? After all, we were friends, even if I had the impression that the past few minutes had had a deep effect on our relationship._

 _However, the strange sound of my voice did not escape his notice, either, and he did what I said. He let me go. And a long silence followed again until he finally spoke._

 _"Forgive me. I forgot myself. It will not happen again." André went past me, heading for the door, where he stopped once more. "One more thing, Oscar," he began, and I slightly turned around to see him, "A rose will always be a rose, whether it blooms in red or white. A rose can never become a lilac. Do not ignore that. Do not try to be someone you are not." And he left._

" _But who am I then, André?"_

 _I would never get an answer to my question, because the next morning, he was gone._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _Thank you so much for reading! I know that this is not much for a start, but the next chapter is already in preparation and I just could not wait to post the Prologue._ _  
_ _Please let me know what you think. Thanks again!_


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

 _Hey there! Chapter 1 took a little bit longer to write than I had expected. Sorry!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 **Oscar.**

 _"The French National Guard?" I asked, staring at the general in astonishment._

 _He shrugged. "They currently are without commander. The last one was taken into custody for high treason as he supported an uprising. The whole company is out of control" he explained in a passing tone while signing documents. "It is certain that i_ _n such precarious times, we have to nip any riots in the bud. B_ _ut no one wants to take the position." Looking up from the paper, he added "Until now, that is."_

 _I slightly raised my eyebrows._ _I was not used to subduing a horde of rebellious men and I had certainly not been looking for it._

 _The reason why I had decided to leave the Royal Guard was that I wanted to distance myself from everything. I wanted to stop living for other people's sake. For the Royal Family and the nobility, I was High Commander of the Royal Guard, defender of the crown. For my father, on the other hand, I was son and heir of a family which had guarded the kings of France for generations. An honourable nobleman, loyal and obedient, that was all I was in their eyes._

 _But I was not sure if I still was or could be the loyal nobleman people saw in me._

 _What had really destabilized me, however, was Victor Clément de Girodelle's marriage proposal which my father had accepted without my knowledge._

 _When I had finally learned of it, first, I had only been puzzled that my father had decided to marry the daughter he had always seen as a son off to a man who was in fact inferior to her. Then, I got furious. For one part because Girodelle and even my father began to see me as something I did not want to be - and very few people knew I was - , but for the other much more serious part, because they had both taken the decision over my head, just as if my opinion did not matter, as if I was a good that you trade in. The fact that Girodelle had apologized did not change much about that._

 _The proposal had been the final straw._

 _Now, every time I looked into the mirror, I kept wondering whose reflection it really was that was staring back at me. I had begun to have doubts about my identity, evoked by continuous riots in Paris which the nobility continued to ignore and by the proposal._

 _I wanted a change. So, the day after, I had asked for transfer._

 _However, again, someone was foiling my plan. Again, someone forced a role on me I did not want. Again, my inner resistance was suppressed by duty._

 _I could hardly refuse now, given the fact that I had asked for transfer myself - and it was an order either way._

 _The general leaned back in his chair, looking at me closely. I guess it was obvious that I was not very delighted, although I tried to look impassive._

" _It is not what you have expected" he said. It was rather a statement than a question._

" _Not quite."_

 _He got up and headed for the window, where he folded his arms behind the back and looked out to the gardens, considering something._

" _We rarely ever get what we expect, do we? That is the problem with life. We never know what will happen. I mean, do you know today where we will be in five years? For my part, I do not. Therefore, we should be grateful for what we have or get" the general said._

 _If he had meant to convince me of the fact that I was given a great_ honour _of becoming the commander of the French National Guard, I was afraid I would have to tell him he had failed. But I preferred to remain silent instead, which he used as an opportunity to turn around again._

 _"You can go then, Monsieur. What are you waiting for?"_

 _A good question indeed. I cleared my throat. "The papers?"_

 _He seemed to find that quite amusing, for he began to chuckle. "Oh. I do not think you will need them. You know, that is not the Royal Guard, they do not care much for these things there. It does not make any difference to them if you have papers to show or not. They will already hate you for being noble, and that is all. Even so, they are nothing but commoners, so I trust you do not attach much importance to their opinion."_

 _"Well, I do" I said a little bit too prompt and too firm, biting my tongue. He screwed up his eyes and his expression showed suspicion. "How am I to interpret that, Monsieur?" he asked._

 _I inwardly told myself to go to hell for giving such an unconsidered answer.  
"I meant to say that the disloyalty of soldiers to the crown may be a great danger to the regime if it is ignored" I replied, trying to sound self-confident, although I knew I was playing with fire. The meaning of these words was a different one to me than to him, but I had not lied at all and I hoped it was convincing enough. _

_He actually seemed to be reassured by that as he turned to the window again._

" _Hm, yes. Yes, that is true. Concerning this, I hope you will make sure that their loyalty is on the right side."_

 _"I will."_

* * *

 _"Since when do you take decisions without consulting with me first?" my father shouted. He was furious and his voice loud, which made me feel the urge to cover my ears with my hands like a stubborn child. "Look at me when I am talking to you!"_

 _Regardless of his demand, I remained seated at my desk and kept watching at my hands. For a short moment, I almost wanted to give in and apologize, like I was expected to do. The answer I chose instead nearly got me a box on the ears._

 _"Since_ you _are taking_ my _decisions without even letting me know about it" I replied. Granny's whimpering made him sink his hand again - and I think he also realized that there was some measure of truth in what I said, although he would not admit it._

 _"You are my son after all. You do not need to know anything, you only are to do what you are told" he said more calmly._

 _"Your_ son? _Do you mean the son you were on the point of actually marrying off like a daughter? Maybe you should at last get it clear in your mind whether you want to have a son or a daughter. I am not a puppet you can treat as you wish"_

 _His fist landed on the desk with a loud bang and I winced involuntarily._

 _"You", he hissed, "are a noble. Therefore, no matter if son or daughter, you should at least know where your place is. And for all I know, it is not at the French Guard."_

" _Well, it is not with a husband, either. Thank you, father, but in this case, I prefer the French Guard" I snapped back. He was speechless then, but I could not tell why. Maybe it was for my apparent lack of respect. Or maybe for the unvarnished truth I had revealed._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 _Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!_


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